The very last time in the bush with my dad was on Rakiura Stewart Island where we walked through the lush forest that surrounds Oban: dys of kaka hopping about on the balcony, fresh fish caught from a boat, and the wonder of near-extinct species flying free on Ulva Island.
Like many, I’ve poured over maps of the Tin Range, Port Pegasus and wondered why they called those granite knobs Gog and Magog.
Likewise I’ve mapped out the time I’d need to complete the Northern Circuit. I’m told the track is rugged and the huts are welcome, and if you have the knack you can enjoy fresh seafood every night.
This island, where kakapo have been brought back from the brink, of wild coastlines, and the country’s youngest National Park, draws me south. To sit again on the balcony, having coffee, watching those kaka, and mulling over life’s journey.